The Swordsman Vaati
by Dark Rabbit
Summary: Minish Vaati Link - Plotless one shot, takes place after Link defeats Vaati in Zelda Minish Cap. shounen-ai Rated for mature situations


Nintendo owns all rights to Legend of Zelda Minish Cap - But I have a son who can do a darn good imitation of Link!

The sun was bright in the Western Woods, shining in a cloudless blue sky. Sitting on the grass in his favorite clearing on the way to the Trilby Highlands, Vaati enjoyed the feel of it, warm on his bare head. He watched the dappling patterns it made, shining through the branches where the trees grew. As he sat quietly, he could hear birds, calling high above him, and the faint sounds of the Minish, going about the business of their tiny lives.

"Vaati -" A man's shadow fell over him. He looked up. His lip curled.

"If it isn't the Hero of Hyrule," he said.

Link sat down next to him on the grass.

"What are you doing away from the Castle?" Vaati asked him, "Don't you think you'd better check in- See how Zelda's doing-" He laughed shortly. "Someone may have taken her prisoner. Or perhaps I've turned her to stone again. He stared hard at the grass, studying it until each blade looked separate, until he could identify every detail of the single buttercup that lay in the line of his vision.

"Zelda's fine," Link said. He touched Vaati's shoulder. "I wanted to talk to you."

Vaati shrugged his hand away without answering. He did not look up from the grass.

"How did you get his?" Link extended one finger and gently traced the scar under Vaati's left eye.

"What's it to you?" Vaati glared at him.

"A sword made that scar," Link said. He put one hand under Vaati's chin and turned his head. Their eyes met. "Was it hand-to-hand combat, or were you dueling someone?"

Vaati stared into Link's dark eyes. One lock of blond hair fell across his face. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and brush it away -

With an effort, he pulled his gaze away. "You've defeated me already, Link," he said, "All my power is gone. What do you want from me now?"

"I want to talk about Vaati the swordsman," Link said. He sat very close. Vaati could hear the whisper of his breathing, feel the light touch of Link's thigh against his hand. "You don't win the prize for swordsmanship at the Picori Festival without a great deal of skill - And experience."

Gently, he touched the scar again. "And you don't get a scar like that," he said, "without fighting bravely." He bent closer - Incredulous, Vaati felt the touch of Link's breath, the faint warm pressure of his lips on his cheek.

"I wanted to give you this." Link sat up. He took the Smith's Sword from its sheath and laid it in front of them. "I was supposed to give it to you at the Festival.

Vaati stared at the blade, simply designed, perfectly made - He studied the way the sun gleamed, white-hot, from the polished steel.

"I was hoping to talk to you then," Link said. He put his hand on Vaati's waist. "I don't meet many dedicated swordsmen. Most people would rather be defended than learn how to fight themselves." He bent his head and touched his lips lightly with his own. "And of those who fight," he continued, "only a very few care enough to hone their skills as you've done." He kissed Vaati again, harder this time. Vaati smelled leather, horses, the cold odor of steel. Link's lips were warm. Every time he bent forward, he could feel the tickle of his blond hair against his own forehead. Vaati touched Link's shoulder and found it warm from the sun.

"I don't like to be forgiven, Link." He said softly. He kissed him, touching his tongue lightly where the lips came together. Link opened his mouth, and they shared tongues for a moment.

"I don't want to forgive," Link said, "I just want to be friends - One swordsman with another."

"Until I leave Hyrule." Vaati said. He pulled Link close and tasted his mouth again. His fingers could feel the muscles of Link's back. Link's heartbeat mingled with the pounding of his own.

"Two swordsmen," he thought, "-For now, anyway." The sun's heat seemed to hold them there, making them one, sealing them in the moment - Until a cloud should pass its face, or a cold wind should come up, breaking the spell that held them.


End file.
